


Breakdown

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Alliances, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Arguing, Bitterness, Caretaking, Chaos, Chronic Illness, Determination, Developing Friendships, Explanations, Fainting, Google wants some teammates, Heat Stroke, Hiding Medical Issues, Hiking, Hot Weather, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Introspection, Moral Ambiguity, Multiple Selves, Pining, Promises, Protectiveness, Queerplatonic Dark/Host - Freeform, Queerplatonic Relationships, Recovery, Suffering, Trust Issues, Vendettas, heat exhaustion, that'll be interesting, wandering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Google didn’t say anything; he couldn’t, not when his potential allies seemed so poised and untouchable. If there was one thing he despised more than stupidity and curiosity, it wasfrailty. He couldn’t let frailty jeopardize his good standing.Google has been attempting to build a rapport with Dark and the Host for quite a while now, but so far, nothing has formed a proper sense of trust among them. An unexpected malfunction, however, may very well prove to be exactly what Google needs.





	Breakdown

It was far, _far_ too hot to be outside, yet here he was because of his creator’s insistence, Google mused irritably as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight and then blinking away the sunspots that followed his gaze downward.

Mark and the rest of his team had been decidedly fed up with the Egos’ recent antics; even though they were taking place in an entirely separate building, Wilford had been on a sugar high, the doctor hadn’t slept well, and Yandere was getting over yet another “bad breakup”. It was rather inevitable that the three catastrophes collided and became a huge, tangled mess and Mark was called to settle the issue.

His solution was to cram as many of the Egos as he could into the van—even if they’d had no part in the dispute!—and drive them out to the middle of nowhere, dropping them off and telling them not to come back until they had expelled some of their nerves and were feeling a little more civil with each other.

“Level some trees or something if you need to!” Mark hollered at them as he rolled the window up, pausing when he saw the horror that the King of the Squirrels wore. “Just, uh, make sure there aren’t any squirrels in them.”

“One can only hope. Innocent deaths always make my day,” Dr. Iplier muttered as Mark was driving away. Most of the ones who overheard took it as sarcasm, but that was all it took for the King to go off the rails at him about priority of life and other doctoral things. How he knew anything about it, no one knew, but most of them didn’t stick around to find out.

Wilford practically skipped away through the tall patches of weeds, beaming as if he was already having the time of his life. Yandere sank down where he was in the shadow of a droopy tree, sniffling and wiping his bloodstained hands on his skirt, and Bim, looking distinctly uncomfortable but unwilling to leave him there, crouched across from him and asked accommodatingly, “What was the last one like, Yan?”

Google had backed off at that point, quite certain that he didn’t want to hear Yandere’s sob story. Shielding his sensitive eyes with his hand, he scanned the area and promptly marched in the direction his potential allies had gone. Dark had whirled around and stormed away from the group as soon as Mark’s van was out of sight, positively seething at being dumped out here with the rest of them, and it hadn’t taken long for the Host to trail grimly after him, his pursed lips and hunched shoulders indicating that he was of the same opinion.

Neither of the friends seemed to mind when Google caught up and joined them, though they automatically drew apart and began discussing mundane gossip, as if they couldn’t trust Google to keep what they said private. That was wise of them, as it turned out; Google would gladly admit that he had no qualms about using the other Egos’ secrets to his advantage. (His posts on Google+ about Yandere’s disastrous dates actually had a decent following!) It wasn’t exactly conducive to building confidence, however, which was what Google was grudgingly aware that he needed from them.

Dark intended to take the world for his own. Google wanted to ravage it. Those ideas obviously could come into conflict if they weren’t careful to keep their interests separate, but the Host, chaotic neutral as ever, was an intriguing go-between. More often he gravitated to Dark—why, Google had yet to find out—but he had begun building a rapport with him. Where Dark allowed the Host’s weaknesses, Google pushed him to _improve_.

At first the Host hadn’t appreciated the determination to drag him away from his work for walks and other training, but eventually he had come to accept it and perhaps appreciate it. When Google had blatantly asked about his change of heart, the narrator had simply replied, “The Host doesn’t particularly enjoy showing weakness.”

Nor did Google, which was why he had absolutely no intention of telling the two of them what agony he was in due to the heat. They looked like they were uncomfortable, of course, but they didn’t seem to be _suffering_ like he was. Dark still wore his full suit and jacket, though he had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar at the throat. Not too long ago, the Host had shrugged out of his trench coat and was carrying it over one arm, but for once Google could envy the bandages wrapped snugly over the bridge of his nose; they prevented the sweat from beading any further than his forehead.

As an android, Google didn’t have _sweat_ , per se, but coolant served just as irritatingly in its place, steaming up his glasses and wetting the neck of his t-shirt. He didn’t say anything about it; he couldn’t, not when his potential allies seemed so poised and untouchable. If there was one thing he despised more than stupidity and curiosity, it was _frailty_. He couldn’t let frailty jeopardize his good standing.

Eventually they found themselves in an area with some denser trees; it was noticeably cooler in the shade, but not cool enough. Google was lagging behind his companions, self-correcting his direction every few steps. The Host had untucked his shirt from his pants and even Dark was fidgeting now, rolling his sleeves up a few inches and growling, “What I wouldn’t give to _corrupt_ the sun at the moment.”

Google nodded slowly in agreement but promptly regretted it as everything around him refused to stop moving up and down, even when he stilled. Spots of static buzzed around the edges of his vision and he huffed, grimacing as he found the inhale just as scalding as the exhale. Leaning as nonchalantly as he could against the nearest, sturdiest tree, he let his eyes fall closed, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead in a vain attempt to rub away the unexpected ache he found there.

When he could muster the energy to blink his eyes open again, he found Dark staring up against the sun’s glare, as if he was genuinely considering a challenge against it. Aura spasming faintly, he prompted, “Host? Is there any chance…?”

“The Host reminds Darkiplier that he already knows the answer: while reality-warping is within his purview, it’s his sphere of reality and that of the people and places in it,” the Host rattled off as Dark moved closer, snatched up his nearest wrist and began rolling the sleeve of his collar shirt up without asking. He smirked just a little, quipping, “Perhaps with Google’s extensive knowledge, they can find a way to transport the Host to the sun so he can assess his ability against it.”

Dark shot the Host a frustrated look as he finished the other sleeve, clearly not sharing his sense of humor, and then asked curtly, “Google, what’s the forecast for this afternoon and evening?”

“Weatherman Jim has predicted lows of eighty-five to ninety with highs in the mid-hundreds,” Google answered shallowly, straining to sort through the data in his head. “Precipitation is at zero, the wind is at four miles per hour, and humidity…is…” Somewhere along the way, information scrambled and he sluggishly combed through his files in search of it. _Humidity. Humility. Heredity_. _Humanity_. He couldn't latch on to the proper word…

“Feel free to go on,” Dark prompted impatiently, spinning around to face him and, after a startled pause, ordering, “Google, look at me.”

As much as he tried, Google couldn’t bring himself to turn his head, staring away at a particularly interesting patch of foliage. Static was dancing around it in a full spectrum of colors and ever so slowly the spots coalesced into blinding white light, blocking out the foliage completely.

“Google! What’s wrong with you? Look at me!” Dark spat again, harsher. Google barely heard him; he sounded tinny and muffled, his echoes more pronounced than his actual words.

“A problem has been detected…” Google slurred vacantly as his legs folded underneath him. “Manually_Initiated_Crash. Shutting down to prevent damage to your computer-r-r-r…” As he pitched gracelessly forward, a dreaded blue screen enveloped him from all sides; he was out before he hit the ground.

***

As all of his systems rebooted, the first thing Google was aware of was that both his head and his feet were propped up. He couldn’t bring himself to examine what the props actually were, nor could he care when he vaguely registered that his shirt had been stripped away. The prominent G emblem on his chest was buzzing and sparking, pulsing icy micro shocks through his body every few seconds. His whole torso burned and it felt like his throat cracked that much more as he struggled to breathe. How did he…?

Dark—Host—The _heat_.

His minidump memory file flew to the forefront, bringing with it a burst of adrenaline that allowed him to get mostly upright before his chest seized up and hauled him to a stop. As tightly as he curled into himself, the painful headrush lingered until strong hands grasped his shoulders and forced him prostrate again.

“Lie _down_ ,” Dark commanded, his baritone bordering on menace. “You overheated; you’re in no condition to move in a hurry.”

As his inner couplings cycled properly, the shocks from his core gradually eased, but Google couldn’t bring himself to feel relieved just yet. His mind was clearing enough to register what Dark had just said and he grimaced as he imagined what his collapse must have looked like.

“I’m perfectly capable,” he muttered back, ignoring Dark’s derisive snort as he pushed himself gingerly onto his elbows, gritting his teeth for the rest of the journey up and then hugging his arms around his torso, assessing. The vents in his lower ribs were flared for better air intake and though the air still couldn’t be classified as cool, it was better than it had been before his crash.

They were in a cave, he realized belatedly, studying the stone roof over their heads. It was no wonder he was better off here.

“The Host bids goodbye to the doctor after informing him of the current situation, slipping his phone into his pocket and returning his attention to his companions. He isn’t particularly pleased to see that Googleplier is straining himself by sitting up.”

Google scowled at these pointed words from the Ego looming overhead, but he didn’t make any attempt at a comeback. He was looking for normalcy, for the quickest opportunity to end this. “Where’s my shirt?” He found the damp item wadded up beside him bare seconds after asking, but as he attempted to pull it back on, his arms turned against him, protesting with an uncomfortably loud chitter of resisting gears. He winced, drew in a weary breath, and opted to let the shirt fall into his lap instead.

Lying back down suddenly seemed a lot more attractive.

“There wasn’t…there wasn’t any need to contact the doctor,” he informed them resignedly as he did so, relaxing his head against the Host’s bundled coat—yes, that’s what his makeshift pillow was. “BSODs are commonplace when I haven’t recently updated my systems.”

At that, Dark and the Host shared a noteworthy look, one Google found himself too tired to read into. He was significantly more interested, however, when Dark clenched his fists against his knees and glanced away, tendrils of smoke roiling around his head and shoulders.

“Yet another failing that our _creator_ must answer for,” he sneered in an undertone.

Sensing Google’s bewildered astonishment at that, the Host sank down on his other side, across from the simmering Dark. “The Host would like to remind Google that his weaknesses are no fault of his,” he declared detachedly. “He, Darkiplier, and the Host are all hindered from reaching their true potential by weaknesses that have been purposely built into them. This is Mark’s doing.”

Perhaps it was the residual sluggishness of his reboot, but Google was having trouble keeping up with this new information. “You blame Mark for what is… _wrong_ with us?” he ventured in a low voice.

“Who else is there to blame?!” Dark barked, the crimson in his aura crackling violently with the sudden outburst. Google couldn’t help but flinch, the Host held up a consoling hand, and Dark glowered at him, continuing through clenched teeth, “He made us like this. He built these weaknesses into us because he fears us…fears what we could become in order to surpass him. I’m forever imprisoned. Host is _tortured_. You are _faulty_.” A savage smile crossed his features then as he lifted his head, staring hatefully out at the sunlit trees as if Mark himself was among them. “He honestly believes that will _stop_ us.”

“When Google has coerced the Host into pushing past his limits, he inevitably found himself stronger for it,” the Host announced surely, swiping at a stray trickle of blood along his jawline. “The Host intends to repay the favor.”

“What are you saying?” Even as he asked, Google had a feeling—a slow-to-form, increasingly _exhilarating_ feeling—that he already knew.

“We’re bringing you into our fold,” Dark concluded simply, looking over his shoulder at the both of them with the unnerving smile still haunting his face. “We’re going to overcome our weaknesses, no matter the power or the sacrifice it takes, and we’re going to make certain that _he_ understands exactly what he’s done to us. The phrase _‘Stronger together’_ comes to mind.”

Ruminating on this, Google nodded slowly, his own smile settling well on his face as he once again pushed himself upright. Even with his core emblem flickering, a casual observer—their creator, for example—would have no idea that he wasn’t perfectly intact. This wasn’t a time to be lying down; if this was a foundation for a coalition, he had to start paying close attention, preparing.

He wasn’t going to take it lying down again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> _Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for yooou?_
> 
> Mark, dude, you really should pay more attention to what your Egos are doing and planning while you're not around... And maybe you should treat the neutral ones a little more nicely before the evil ones can get to them... -_-


End file.
